Elan Mudrow

Sometimes I wish this rain wasn’t as cold as it is. I hear its voice when hitting my roof, a choir, confused, but a steady, controlled, stream of notes.

My skin fragile, one cold drop could sink into my bones, giving me a chill, a shudder.

I have felt this type of coldness before.

Coming out of the rain, hanging my raincoat on the doorknob, while the rain warms, falls to the floor, evaporates.

Yet, the sidewalk outside my door, (for I watch what the rain does) shows signs…pot marks, from the beating of voices. It needs no fists. I’ve known that. It’s common sense.

Under the eaves, where the rain cannot hit directly, it’s smooth, but out, exposed to the roundest, roughest drops, cracks, erosion, and moss form a chaos.

Only a thin layer protects me, shingle, frame, sheetrock.

I’m barefoot, watching the rain through the window, drops slide…

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It will Change

Eclipsed Words

the sky opens before me, revealing the answers to the questions i have asked many times

i step forward, ready to split myself open and reveal the light within me that always shines

my eyes scan the sea of humans before me and i cannot help but notice the confusion and the stress

they are constantly worried about what they can change yet think of themselves less and less

what is this game we have fallen into and can we beat it?

because i don’t want to come back again, i don’t want to repeat it

the wind blows my hair across my eyes, but my vision is not clouded

for i see the countless of people terrified, their happiness is always shrouded

the darkness is not something to fear, as it is only the absence of light

when we wake up and open our eyes, we will then see…

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A Poem By Ma And Me

The Scribblings

My mom and I have written a poem together! You guys have read my poems and you know what my style of writing is. This time, I decided to share with you a poem which my mother and I have written together! I am so excited to know what you guys think of our collective effort!

The stanzas in blue are my mom’s and the ones in black are mine. We’ve written the stanzas alternatingly, the first being mine, next being hers and so on (additional information if the colour isn’t showing up.).

The Golden Canvas

By Prerna and Meher Gandhi

I have been wandering in this forest alone,
Have traversed every puddle, every stone.
All the lights and crowds I’ve seen,
The desert is where I’ve never been.

It seems the path is taken less,
Or is it for the one to assess?
The lonesome stream, the hollow pit,

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Winter Days

Yes…some days are like that…even if you live in a warm climate…
Nice writing done on this poem. It really puts you in the mood or even explain how you feel at the moment.

Poet's Corner

These cold weekends of winter
keep us warm indoors most days
For it is frigid out there
devoid of warming rays
So we’d rather stay here snug and warm
with music, books and cheer
in our jumpers and our slippers
instead of winter gear

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Try And Try

We do the best we can…the effort we put in will impact someone, even if we are not aware of who they are or what we did for them. This is a nice piece of writing. Quite reflective.

Heartstring Eulogies

“And I suppose that’s all anyone can do. Try.”

When the clock stops ticking, I’ll be at my end. Whether it comes today, tomorrow, or years from now, I’ll know I lived my life as best I could. It may never be enough. Because I know it hasn’t been perfect. But I tried. And I suppose that’s all anyone can do. Try. I’ve loved, and I’ve managed to overcome so much of the darkness in my past. Flaws and all, I’ve tried. And I’ll keep trying, even though the voice in the back of my head will continue telling me it’s not enough.

© Sarah Doughty

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